


a movement, the seed

by parkadescandal



Series: it starts with a melody [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: 358/2 Days, Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, shampoo with martyr tears! no sulfates no parabens!, someone P L E A S E teach these kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-17 16:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/parkadescandal
Summary: The things Riku learned in the lost year.





	a movement, the seed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pineovercoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/gifts).



> A prequel to [“A Body of Knowledge You Can’t Give Up”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194197), or, How Riku Learned to Start Worrying and Love The Light.
> 
> I was trying to claw this one out before I was swept away in the Demon Tide of KH3 but you see how that turned out. There are no spoilers here. 
> 
> For the dearest [pineovercoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/pseuds/pineovercoat), an incredible writer and an amazing friend. (No, but click that link, seriously.)

I. _peripeteia_

 

He’d been well liked with something to prove, then. He didn’t miss it. There was anonymity both in popularity and in obscurity--one was just easier to perform, and Riku had plenty of effort expended elsewhere these days. 

On the Islands it had been front of the class, haughty smirk, hand raised just enough not to be a nuisance but still enough to let everyone know just who always crept up towards the top of the class rankings. Funny what had been important. Now he got up to leave and would watch the other students around him jump--they never even noticed he was there. 

The end of each week--when he made it to class at all, that is--he’d hand over the neat summary report of lessons DiZ had requested just to humor him. It was something to do, and the days were long. 

The routine was just enough a reflection of _before_ \--when staring out the window during class was just that, and not dreaming of what lay beyond the sea. When his only motivation was to make it through the day so that he could go play on an island that was large enough on its own. When dreaming of some nebulous ether hadn’t occupied his every cell, poisoned each one whole with a lie: _I’m not afraid of the darkness_. When he’d championed the light that was the safety of routine and the comfort of his friends. 

Now in a spare second of lost attention, he looked out and saw nothing but the shade of numbness before his eyes that distorted the dusk. In that split second before the turn of a page or the scratch of a pencil his heart attempted to leap out and risk it all, just like he had before. To reverse the fortune he had played himself the fool to gain. 

He locked that heart up, then. Just for a little while longer, he put it away. And he studied. 

 

II. _gravitational pull_

 

“What’s your deal?”

Riku looked up from his notes to see another boy peer at him with judgement while perched on the flat top of the desk in front of him. 

“I don’t make deals,” he said with disdain. The effect was dampened some when his hair fell into his face and he had to push it aside; it was well past his shoulders now. He caught an eyebrow raise from Naminé about it every once in a while. 

“Smart aleck. Got it. So where are you from and why are you wasting all that talent? Pence over there tried cheating off your math test before Olette caught him and he said you’re pretty smart.”

“Listen,” Riku leveled with him. “Hey. Nice to meet you. It’s been a pleasure. Now have a nice life. This is just a temporary situation--it’s not worth it for me to spend time making friends.” 

“So I’m upgrading you to wise guy now, is what I’m hearing. Who said anything about making friends?” 

Other students had left the classroom, but the other boy and girl who were magnetized to him at all times, presumably Pence and Olette, swung back to collect their friend. 

“C’mon, Hayner,” said the girl. “Leave him alone. You promised we would study after school.” 

Riku stood up to leave with a shrug but found that with the other boy joining, the three now flanked him. He was outnumbered, to his amusement.

“Oh. You’re the kid Hayner’s been cheating off of for the last two weeks,” the third said to Riku, and placed his hands on his hips with a look of recognition. 

“ _Pence_ ,” Hayner said, aghast at the betrayal. “C’mon, man.” Hayner shook his head and looked to the floor, hardly masking a smile. 

“Don’t get used to it,” Riku said, and hitched his bag to his shoulder. “You’re gonna have to learn on your own eventually.”

As it came out of his mouth he realized how familiar it was--a phrase he knew by rote. He was embarrassed at how easily it had tumbled out of him, even after this long. Well, maybe not so long ago, actually. The memory of constantly swiveling himself and his notebook away from a wheedling Sora was just fresh enough. 

_“Riku,”_ Sora would whine. _“Please. Just this once. Just this one time,”_ and even though it may have been easier just to acquiesce, some remaining sense of righteousness in Riku pushed him to do what was better in the long run for both of them. But if Sora were smart enough to figure out that he could get his homework for free in a rare weak moment, he was smart enough to get his math done on his own. 

Maybe it would have been easier on the both of them if they hadn’t insisted on doing assignments together. Or everything else. But Riku found that the principles of magnetism operated similarly here. For the longest time, they were together. Never not. The thought of otherwise was anathema, opposite polarities pushed apart in a powerful arc until they flipped right back around together. 

This arc had lasted a little longer, but he had come around. It was scientific law, after all. 

“So he is smart,” said Olette. “There’s at least one good example around here.” She folded her hands together and leaned in just on the outskirts of Riku’s personal bubble. “Thanks for the lesson. I wish you the best. I’m sure your friends back home miss you, O Sensible One.” 

“We’ll see. I didn’t exactly leave on…” 

Riku stopped, the phrase _good terms_ having died out before its time. The compulsion to spill his heart to strangers wasn’t too becoming. Olette leaned back, and the other two unconsciously inched away by degrees to match her. Riku, for an instant, was charmed. 

“...Never mind. Thanks, though,” he said, and pushed through with a gentle hand on Pence’s shoulder. He turned back to look at Hayner one last time on his way out the door. “Good luck on the test tomorrow.” 

“ _Test tomorrow?_ ” was the last thing he heard as he passed through the threshold, reaching into his pocket to thumb at the blindfold, reassuring himself that it was still ready and waiting. 

 

III. _divine right of succession_

 

Riku heard the light footsteps of someone else in the wood, and let down his guard--they were entirely too soft to be someone who could threaten him or his peace and quiet for the moment. 

“Mickey,” he said softly. 

“Hey there, Riku!” Mickey called out brightly, then gasped. Riku heard the clap of his hand to his mouth and the swish of his coat as he frantically looked around to make sure he hadn’t given away their position. A tiny smile threatened to tug at Riku’s face. 

“Hi, Your Majesty,” he said instead. 

“I’m glad I found you. I was worried you had taken off on us for a bit there.” 

Riku gave a noncommittal _hmm_. 

“Your Majesty,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I may _have_ to go away, for a little while.” 

“Gosh, Riku,” Mickey said. “I hope it’s not for too long! Is everything okay?” 

“I have to make some tough decisions,” Riku said quietly. “I can’t come back completely to the realm of light if I can’t say that I’ve tried.” 

“Tried to do what?” 

“To master it,” Riku said, reaching up to put one gloved hand over his heart. “To capture my own darkness so that I can deserve it.” 

“Who said you don’t deserve it?” Mickey said, and since he wouldn’t see Riku’s withering glare from behind the blindfold, Riku sighed and shrugged his shoulders instead. Mickey wasn’t terribly fond of the kind of talk he was prone to as explanation. 

“I might be better suited to help from the dark for now,” he said rather than receive the lecture all over again. 

“Well, I hope not forever. You know, Riku,” Mickey said as he stepped forward, “I think one day you’d fit in just swell at Disney Castle, if you’d have us.” He reached up to give a brief reassuring press to his hand. “Minnie’s sure grateful to ya, and I know you could give us all a hand. You’ve got what it takes to be my right hand in running the castle when I’m away.” 

“R-really?” 

“Absolutely! I’d be happy to have someone as strong and clever as you to help me with the things that I’m still learning about the darkness. So I hope you consider not disappearing on us for _too_ long.” 

“Mickey. I’m--I don’t know what to say. You’re always so kind,” he said, feeling the kindling of an unexpected bit of warmth in his center. He hadn’t thought much at all of the future, come to think. 

“Whaddya say? Promise that you’ll be okay?” 

“Of course, Mickey,” Riku said with a wavering smile. “I’d be honored. When this is all over...we’ll see. ...But you gotta give me some time.” 

“Take all the time you need!”

“It might not be soon. But...next time you can’t find me. You know where I’ll be.”

“I understand. But if ya don’t mind, I’d like to keep you company for a little while before you go.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Your Majesty.” 

Mickey laughed gently, and reached up once more to give his hand another satisfied set of pats before he settled himself at the trunk of a tree in the wood. Riku sat to join him, more buoyant than in ages. 

 

IV. _trompe l’oeil_

 

“If you won’t let me cut it, then at least let me do this,” Naminé said as she wrestled with a comb in one hand. 

“Stop, stop. I can do it by myself.”

“Then why don’t you?” she said calmly, and yanked the comb through a knot in his hair as he gave a suppressed little howl of agony. Naminé sat back, placed the comb in her lap, and crossed her hands.“Riku. Please let me help you.” 

“I’m trying to read.” 

“Perfect. You can read me your lessons while I help you with this.”

“I can _do this by myself_ , _why_ do you insist on--”

“Because I know everything about you,” she said, tone even. “And I know that you don’t like me to bring that up. But I also know that you spent most of your life concerned about your appearance to the point of vanity, and now you won’t even brush your hair. You’re not accomplishing anything by being stubborn about it.”

“ _Stubborn--_ ”

“Yes, stubborn. So let me help. It’s the least I can do.” 

Riku sighed. “What does it even matter, Naminé? Who would even care?”

“For starters, _you_ , I hope.” He managed only part of a frustrated scoff before she interrupted again and drove the comb back to his scalp. “And I know I’m Nobody in particular, but I care about you, for what it’s worth.”

“ _Ha, ha_ ,” Riku said with venom, but had to stop to consider: Naminé didn’t often make jokes. 

“It’s only natural that I would. And I do owe you.” 

“You owed _him_ ,” Riku spat in a feeble attempt to throw her off with verbal invective, but he realized that she had seen right through him when she smiled. 

“Of course. He was you, after all. In all the ways it counted.” 

“But he would be better to you.” 

“Oh, who knows,” she said lightly as she set aside the last of the hair she’d parted for him and began to run the comb through once more. “But both you and I know full well how I got him to care quite so much about me when I’m not actually part of this equation.” 

Riku looked down, chagrined. Another reminder of his heart laid bare, and another reminder of what she had sacrificed to repent. 

“No one’s hands are clean here.” 

“No,” she only said, and ran her fingers through his hair. “There. Much better.” 

He untensed his shoulders, let out a breath. 

“...Thank you, Naminé.” She knew it wasn’t just for her hairdressing services. She leaned in and placed the very lightest touch of her lips to his cheek; a chaste little _you’re welcome, any time_. 

“You almost fooled me too, you know,” she hummed. “Just for a moment.” 

“How?” Riku said, suddenly bewildered. Naminé was one of the few people he _hadn’t_ actively lied to. 

“Your light. You thought you’d obscured it, masked it all up. But I know better.” She shook her head and raised a hand to stop him before he argued. “I’m in the best position to see it. How could I possibly not? But I’m hoping you’ll see past your own illusion, too.” 

“You might be bargaining a little too much on faith.” 

“I know you won’t let me down.” She reached over to place his hands in hers and met his eyes with another smile. “We have too much at stake, after all.” 

 

V. _imaginary numbers_

 

His voice wasn’t similar at all. 

Riku gave in to the temptation and lifted the blindfold just enough to take a glance, safely obscured in a lofty vantage point in town. Three Organization members walked to the clock tower--the one they called Roxas and his improbable friends. Roxas spoke up and told a joke, and it wasn’t with any voice Riku had ever heard before and it wasn’t with any face he’d seen before either. He lingered for a moment longer, trying to figure out just what similarities he needed to find, but came up short. 

Xion, on the other hand. 

In a moment, in an instant--Riku felt his heart seize. Xion was much more familiar. He didn’t and did and didn’t and did know why but he ached, a little, looking at Xion; he replaced the blindfold and was grateful for the excuse. 

He heard a soft voice, then, and it was high like a girl’s, subdued, and _that_ seemed wrong, too. 

“I’ll catch up with you both in a few minutes,” the voice said. 

“Xion,” said Roxas, but the third voice stopped him--Axel’s. 

“Let her go. She’ll catch up. Right, Xion?” 

She gave a little hum of affirmation and let them go while taking a few steps back the way she came before stopping. 

“I don’t know what you want. But please leave my friends alone,” she said to Riku. 

“Are you saying you care about them?” he said, more caught off guard than anything. If what he knew about hearts was true, then this didn’t seem like appropriate behavior for someone without one.

“Of course I do. Just like I sensed that you’re here because of the people you care about too.” 

Riku had seen it, the moment he knew she’d sensed him. Xion had leaned into Roxas’s touch, then startled for a moment as if she’d been shocked. She hesitated as if she were going to turn around and look Riku right in the eyes before turning back to join the other two. He’d miscalculated. Just being there had sparked the absorption of some new connection from Roxas to Xion, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that now she knew too much. 

“Assume what you want,” he settled on instead of a defense. 

“Why are you here? If you’re not going to hurt us.” 

He stopped. Well, that was a good one, wasn’t it. 

“I really don’t know,” he had to admit. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“Who knows,” he said, unable to muster anything but weariness. “There’s always unfinished business, isn’t there.”

It was so silent for a moment that Riku had to wonder if he just hadn’t heard her leave, but she spoke up again. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she said. “You’re not responsible. You could have just gone home and no one would have even known that you had been gone.” 

He bit down on that one, for a moment, let it sit for a moment on the inside of his cheek. 

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I guess I coulda,” he lied. 

Another moment and this time he did hear her go, the soft and even step of her boots. He wondered if she’d keep her conviction.

 

VI. _binary code_

 

DiZ stood at the doorway of the mansion’s deepest basement and squinted a little at the brightness. He hovered at the threshold for a moment, not believing for a second that the boy didn’t notice him, even with his back turned to the door and unseeing eyes glued directly ahead. He was bathed in the eerie glow of the transparent pod where another boy continued to sleep soundly. 

“We’re studying theorems,” the boy said around a throatful of pebbles. “I’ll bring you the notes tomorrow.” 

“It is not a concern.”

“I’ll bring them,” he repeated adamantly. DiZ pursed his lips and took a breath before he replied. 

“Yes. Of course,” he said, and crossed his arms. The boy pushed himself up into a standing position with a book still in his hand. 

“DiZ. In your simulation--you can’t…” 

“Cannot what?” 

“You have to give him friends. It will be… so much easier for him to figure out that something’s wrong if he’s lonely. We won’t make it a day and we won’t buy the time we need. He should have friends, he’s never been alone. He shouldn’t be...alone.”

There was something left unsaid. DiZ ticked back the seconds in his head as he waited.

“You know, I--”

He stopped, for a moment. 

“What is it, young man?” DiZ said, shocked that he could still even muster the gentleness that his voice had carried. 

“It’s nothing.” 

DiZ waited for another long moment, and right as he turned to leave him helplessly be, the boy spoke again. 

“I just--I can’t remember the way he laughs. I can’t remember what he sounds like when he laughs.”

There was an uncharacteristic crack to his voice. The boy hadn’t slept properly in days. Like clockwork he would return here in the middle of the night, stealing away from his room and from his regrets.

DiZ had no comforting words, neither remedies nor platitudes for the future. He’d stolen the laughter indefinitely from two children, sealed it away in an airtight capsule. It would continue to vacuum the joy and the light in leaps and bounds until there were no more children left to be the light in the world. 

“He was _always laughing_ ,” he continued, almost with disbelief. His tone tipped into the stream and the current was headed over the waterfall of anger, of rage. “My whole life, we were _always laughing_. _Why_?” 

His voice shattered on the last note. He launched the book across the room and then himself back into the tirade.

“ _Every time_ he’d see the humor in the situation, when we were in trouble, when we were out of it--I thought laughing was the only thing he knew how to _do_. And now he’s not here to--” 

A pen fell out from his hand and clattered to the floor next to the small pile of books he had carried with him. 

“How am I supposed to see _just what was so funny_!” he yelled, and kicked his books, and sent the pages to float up into the air, separated and torn. 

“I am afraid that I do not know, Riku,” DiZ said, and he watched him crumple and fall to his knees as if that had been the final tug on his string. Rather than watch him sob helplessly, DiZ stepped out and closed the door to leave them alone together. Worry of pride on both their parts kept the apology from his lips. 

 

VII. _counterpoint_

 

Riku was a little rattled, but more disappointed: somehow the organization member who played the sitar had quite nearly gotten the jump on him as he stalked away from classes in a haze. He’d countered, wind splaying out his coat, and reached to grab the sitar from him. _Try it again,_ he’d dared, casting a freezing spell over it. Ignoring his whines of protest, he tapped it gently with the smallest touch of his dark fire. One by one, each string had popped. They made a delightful twanging noise as they’d gone. Riku had tossed it back and he’d scrambled after it, thoroughly dissuaded. 

It was a little too late to enroll here, but Riku was reminded of the instrument he’d chosen for the upcoming semester and left to gather dust back on the Islands. It wasn’t like he had a transcript with proof he had made the commitment to learn. 

Of all the things to feel a sudden pang of melancholy about.

“ _Oh, you wanna play music?_ ” Sora had asked him when they’d chosen classes.“ _Just one more thing for you to be better than everyone else at!_ ” 

“ _Then take it with me,_ ” he’d responded. “ _Just don’t pick the same thing as me. You’d look ridiculous with a cello, anyway. You need something more dramatic_.” 

_“Just why do you want to know this stuff, anyway?_ ” Sora had pouted, crossing his arms and leaning in to peer at an introductory music theory book with reservation. 

“ _Can’t hurt to expand our horizons,_ ” he’d said. Well, they’d had that in spades, now, hadn’t they. 

Now to broaden them yet more. If a narrow miss with a sitar was any indication, it was time to lay low, for a bit, off the grid entirely. But there were probably no practice rooms in the Realm of Darkness. 

It wasn’t too late to learn to play properly, he thought; maybe one day when the melody had returned. Now that he had this new resolve, the steps he took tapped out a phrase in the staccato: _Soon, Sora. Soon, Sora. Soon._

**Author's Note:**

> Asia, I wish I had a hundred thousand words flowing on tap for you at any given time. Here’s my offering all the same. Thank You For The Ricky. 
> 
> [This beautiful song](https://youtu.be/fGmJExv_1G4) is where I pulled the title for this and for the series of which it is a part. The other part of this series comes from another one of this artist's songs called "Classically Trained". (They don't have any lyrics posted, so I got up the nerve to tweet at them and they basically were like, "Buy our album and there's a PDF included!" and I was like, well played, French Horn Rebellion. Well played.)


End file.
